Water & Flame (Witches of the Elements Series Book 1)

by Alejandra Vega

  He couldn’t sit idly and watch the entire time, of course. As the son of Margaret Huntsman, many tried to impress him as well, hoping that as his star rose, he would remember them. Ben found it all tiresome, hypocritical, and sad.

  “You don’t seem to be having much fun,” a voice whispered near his ear. He started and looked over. It was Abigail, somehow right next to him though he had been watching for her all night.

  “Yes,” he said, “I would like another drink.” He made a show of selecting his glass carefully as he whispered back to her. “Honestly, I hate these things. How are you enjoying the evening?” He chuckled a little at that.

  “I am finding out the most interesting things,” she said, keeping her face neutral but showing her humor in those blue eyes of hers.

  “Really?” he said. “Anything I would find interesting?”

  “I would think so, especially the talk about the big announcement.”

  Ben had been keeping his face calm also, scanning the other guests to see if they noticed he had said more than a few words to a servant. At this, though, his face slipped and he showed curiosity. “Announcement? What announcement?”

  Abigail shifted her eyes to the side. “That one,” she said. She winked quickly at him and flitted off to offer her drinks to a large man whose name Ben couldn’t recall.

  Ben looked to where Abigail had indicated and saw his mother climbing the stairs. She went up five steps and then turned back toward the mass of guests. She didn’t have to clear her throat or do anything else to command attention. Everyone already had one eye on her, so the room quickly quieted when it seemed she would speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said in a normal speaking voice. She was heard easily in the silence that had fallen. “I would like to welcome you to my home. It is too seldom this house has so many interesting—and influential—people within. I am happy to see you all.”

  She looked around the room, making eye contact with a few of the guests. When her eyes found Ben, they stopped on him, locked onto his eyes for a moment, then passed on.

  “I will not make a grand speech,” she continued, “but there is an important announcement that I would like to make.” She paused for a moment, looking out over the crowd. Her eyes met Ben’s again, and he felt a chill.

  “You all know my son Benjamin, of course,” she said, pointing to him. The chill intensified as all eyes went to him. “Benjamin, dear, why don’t you come up here with me?”

  His mother knew people would be looking at him, taking their attention away from her, so moving him next to her would help her to keep the focus near her, if not on her. Ben drank down what was left in his glass and mindlessly held out the empty tumbler. Abigail was suddenly there, taking it from him and putting it on her tray.

  “Breathe,” she whispered, and then slipped into the crowd.

  He did breathe. Deeply. Putting on a smile he was sure everyone could see was fake, he made his way through the parting throng up to the step just below where his mother stood. She reached out and patted him on the shoulder as if he were a prized pet and had performed a trick on command. He swallowed again and made sure his smile was fixed.

  “As I was saying,” his mother continued, “you all know Benjamin and what a fine young man he is. You also know how hard it is to find a suitable young man these days.” She shook her head and put on the most convincing look of sadness he had ever seen her wear. How long had she practiced that look in the mirror?

  “Ah, but I promised to be brief. I am happy to announce the engagement of my son, Benjamin Mason, to Penelope Moore. Penelope, please come on up.”

  Chapter 13

  Ben felt like the roof had fallen on him. He couldn’t breathe with the tons of concrete and wood pressing down on his chest. He saw, in a sort of fuzzy, dream-like fashion, a young woman coming up the stairs. Did his mother just say what he thought he heard? Time seemed to be moving more slowly than normal.

  He knew Penelope. She was a year or two younger than him and belonged to a wealthy family from Casper, Wyoming. She wasn’t ugly, oh no. In fact, she was beautiful, when her face wasn’t pinched in disdain over the “little people who seemed to spread like weeds,” ruining her enjoyment of life.

  She was about five and a half feet tall—a little taller in the heels—and the dress she wore hugged the subtle curves of her body. Her oval face was set off with big brown eyes and full lips and her dark hair fell loosely a few inches past her shoulders. She was definitely pleasant to look at.

  Most of the young men present at the party would have killed to be in his shoes. Most had tried, all unsuccessfully, to catch her interest in the past. He had not spent much time with her, disliking everything about her attitude and interests. She was beautiful, sure, but he would rather marry Mrs. Roberts. He was miserable in a five minute conversation with this harpy; he couldn’t marry her.

  Ben realized that he probably had been standing there for much too long with a blank look on his face. Penelope stood next to him, holding out her hand.

  He blinked and when his eyes focused again, Abigail was the first thing he saw. She was in the back of the room, near one of the doorways. Looking carefully left and right to make sure no one was watching her, she motioned to her face with her hand and put on an exaggerated smile. He understood and forced his shocked face into a semblance of a smile, then took Penelope’s hand. It was cold and clammy, so different than when he had touched Abigail’s hand. The maid’s hand was warm and full of life, even delivering that shock or pulse of energy he still wondered about.

  “So, there you have it,” Margaret Huntsman said. “The newly engaged couple. We’ll let them have some time together now. Please, everyone, enjoy yourselves. When a date has been set, you will all receive invitations to the wedding.”

  Ben’s mother left him there, with his new fiancée. He dropped Penelope’s hand, said something to her—he could never recall exactly what it was later—and went quickly to the bathroom. He felt like he might throw up.

  He washed his face with cold water to try to revive his flagging thought process. Standing in front of the mirror, palms on the counter, he lifted his dripping chin up so he could look his reflection in the eye. What was he going to do? He didn’t want to marry that shrew his mother had shackled him with.

  His clean-shaven cheeks, strong jaw, his sand-colored hair that framed his face and contrasted with his blue eyes stared back at him. He wore an expression somewhere between disgust and nausea. He was young and good-looking, he thought. He didn’t need his mother to arrange a marriage for him. His image’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

  His father had always stressed old-fashioned values about marriage and how important it was. And he spoke about being with someone, sharing your life with them, being a part of them. Ben would not cheapen it by marrying for expediency, or for political or business reasons. Isn’t that what this was, a marriage of alliance?

  No, he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. When he married—if he married—it would be because he loved the woman, not because his mother wanted more business connections. No. He would put his foot down this time. She could not make him marry Penelope. He would just have to discuss it with his mother. After the party.

  His mind made up, he toweled off his wet face, checked his reflection one more time to make sure everything was in order, and walked out of the bathroom.

  Right into Abigail.

  She was standing there, apparently waiting for him, empty tray hanging loosely from one hand. She didn’t flinch as he stopped abruptly to keep from running her down. His body came to rest mere inches from hers. It didn’t seem to faze her. It made him nervous.

  “You didn’t know,” she stated.

  “No,” he said. “Did you?”

  “Yes, I heard some gossip from that…from your fiancée.”

  He sighed. “Please don’t call her that. I’ll straighten this thing up. After the party, I am going to talk to my mother and get this resolved.
”

  She eyed him, then looked up and down the hallway to see if anyone was near. “You’ll pardon me for saying, Master Mason—Ben, but I don’t really think talking to her will do any good. She seems to have it all planned out.”

  Despite how he felt, Ben allowed himself a small smile. “I like it when you call me Ben. I would appreciate it if you would continue to do so when no one is around to get you in trouble.”

  Abigail flashed a conspiratorial smile. “I will…when no one is around to get me in trouble.”

  “Deal,” he said and had the urge to take up her hand and shake on the agreement. He didn’t, though. “I know she probably won’t change her mind, but I have to try.”

  “Would it really be so bad to marry her?” Abigail asked. “She is beautiful, after all. I’ve seen how all the other guys follow her around and try to catch her eye.”

  “She is good-looking, I’ll grant that,” Ben said, “but that only goes a quarter of an inch down. Underneath, she’s all warts and pus and oozing sores. She’s a hideous monster.”

  Abbie giggled softly and Ben felt his body warm. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. If she could only be more like you.”

  “Oh, with less warts and pus and stuff?” she teased. “I better get back to work. Good luck on your conversation with your mother. Hopefully you can convince her. No one should have to marry someone they don’t want to.”

  Ben looked into her eyes as he nodded slowly. “Yes, I agree. Miss Hen—I mean, Abbie, I would really like to talk with you sometime. I mean, really talk with you. I—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea. I’ll see you around, though. I understand that you live here.” She winked again, turned, and walked off, tray swinging.

  Ben watched her until she turned the corner and went out of sight. She looked over her shoulder as she made the turn and smiled at him. When he realized he was standing there with his mouth partway open, staring at where she had been, he shook his head and closed his mouth with a click. He better spend the rest of the night rehearsing what he was going to say to his mother. He was definitely not looking forward to that conversation.

  “Come in, Benjamin,” Margaret Huntsman said when Ben knocked on her study door late that night, after most of the party guests had departed. His mother had left the party almost an hour earlier and he knew where she would be: in her study trying to get some work done.

  Ben took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He opened the door and stepped into the room. His mother was sitting at the big desk directly across from the entryway. She had her glasses on and looked to have been reading through some reports.

  “Let me save you the trouble of asking,” she said to him, tilting her head so she could look over the top of her glasses. “I will not reconsider. You will marry Penelope as soon as we can arrange a suitable wedding. I know you don’t want to settle down and become responsible, but you have, at most, a year to continue to act like a child. I think it will be closer to six months.”

  “But,” he said, hating the whine in his voice, “I don’t even like Penelope. It’s not that I don’t want to get married. It’s that I want to marry someone I love. I will never love that woman.”

  “Oh, Benjamin.” His mother took her glasses off and looked him in the eye. “Love is overrated. You don’t need love. What you need is a good solid plan for the future. Penelope’s family owns some of the few industries Huntsman Consolidated does not in this state. It’s a perfect match. She is young and healthy, not to mention good-looking, and your children will inherit fine traits from both of you. The best part, of course, is that between our holdings and theirs, it makes for a very good alliance.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.”

  “Benjamin,” Margaret said firmly, “you’ve had enough time being the little boy who thinks only of himself. It’s past time for you to grow up and accept the responsibility that comes with being an adult. The responsibility that comes with being a Huntsman.”

  “I’m not a Huntsman. I’m—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. And you know what I mean. You need to set aside your selfish wants and do what is right for the family. The family, the company, is more important than your petty desires and silly, childish dreams. You will marry Penelope, our families’ businesses will be strengthened, and we will make more money than ever before.”

  “Don’t we have enough money?” Ben asked.

  His mother looked shocked. “Enough money? Benjamin, dear, one can never have enough money. Or power. Your marriage will help us get more of both. It’s perfect.”

  “It’s not,” Ben said. “I don’t love her. I will never love her. I won’t marry her.”

  The fire near his mother’s desk was blazing, but the look she gave him made him feel like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. “You will, and that’s final.”

  Her eyes reflected the firelight, and he could have sworn they glowed for a moment. The room tilted, and he felt another one of those strange dizzy spells coming upon him. Ben closed his eyes for a moment, put his hand up to squeeze his temples, and then opened his eyes again.

  “You can’t make me marry someone,” he said. “I won’t do it. Find another way to make an alliance. I’ll be no part of it.”

  Margaret’s face changed. Just for the briefest of moments, she showed emotion. Was that surprise? She mastered her expression instantly, and he wondered if he had imagined it.

  “Benjamin, you are beginning to irritate me. You will marry Penelope, or I will cut you off. No more allowance, no more credit, nothing. Make too big an issue of it, you will be evicted from this house. You will be penniless and homeless. Do not push me in this. As I said when you came in, this is going to happen, with your cooperation or without. Now leave. I have work to do.”

  He found himself walking out the door before he even realized he had decided to leave. How did she do that? One thing was for sure, he would not let her win this argument. It was his life they were talking about. He would not let her dictate who he would marry. He would not.

  When Ben returned to his room, Lucas was there waiting for him.

  “Dude,” was all Lucas said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Ben said as he fell into a chair. “I had no idea. Did you know anything about it?”

  “Come on, Ben. If I’d known anything about it, I would have told you. You know that. I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m still in shock. I can’t believe I’m trapped like this. There has to be a way out.”

  Lucas fixed Ben with a look of astonishment. “Really? You think you’ll be able to outsmart your mother? No offense, Ben, but you don’t really have all that much experience in laying clever plans that have no escape. Or of defeating them. Your mother is a master.”

  “I hardly think you bringing that up right now is helping, Lucas.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Lucas said. “Sorry.”

  Ben closed his eyes for a moment. “I know it will be difficult, but she’s still human. We have to think of something.”

  “I’m with you, Ben,” Lucas said. “Just for curiosity’s sake, though. If you get married, will I still be your driver and manservant?”

  Lucas never saw the couch cushion that hit him in the side of the head.

  Chapter 14

  “We’re almost ready,” Helen Shapiro said to Margaret.

  “Excellent,” Margaret said, tipping her teacup and taking a sip. She had found that drinking—any type of drink, but it worked especially well with tea or coffee—allowed her time during a conversation to study others. And to carefully plan what she would say next. Not that she needed it in this case, but old habits were old habits.

  Helen was her Executive Assistant, officially, but she was much more. She was Margaret’s right hand, the one who controlled the day-to-day operation of her most important work: her plotting to control or eliminate the other factions of witches.

&
nbsp; She had known Helen since they were children, and the large woman had one of the most deviously clever minds Margaret had ever known. Sometimes she didn’t know what she would do without her.

  “Once we have taken care of the water witches, the other two factions will fold easily enough,” Helen said. “The air witches will do whatever it takes to avoid trouble, and the earth witches will find that their stubborn, unmoving tactics will not avail them in this case. They will be alone, isolated. We will take them out singly or in small groups. By the time they realize they need to gather together to make a united stand, they will be finished. Besides, our work has already made the different elements suspicious of each other. They may just start doing our work for us.”

  “Good,” Margaret cooed, “very good.”

  “Frank Gibraltar is doing a great job on his end. You were right about him, I guess. He doesn’t look like much, but he gets things done.”

  “He does. Where is he right now?”

  Helen looked at her phone. “I think he’s recruiting. He says he’ll need more onlies for the next phase of the plans.”

  “Yes, I believe he is right about that.”

  Helen’s gaze shifted down toward the rug sprawled out on the hardwood floor. “What about the other Council members, and the Grand Flame herself? Many of them oppose your ideas on this.”

  “What they do not know, they cannot argue against. We must do our job and complete the tasks in front of us. Let me worry about the Council. I have other allies worth far more.”

  “Fine,” Helen said, tilting her head and looking at her friend. “I will let you know when I have a more definite time frame. Like I said, it shouldn’t be long now.”